


Wherever You Are

by Sephyranthus



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: 1990s high school au, AU - No Pennywise, Angst, Derogatory Language, F/M, Friendship, M/M, Multi, Poly Relationship, Reddie, Slow Burn, benverly - Freeform, feel good, mention of swip from another fanfic, relatable, swip is great
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-24 14:13:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21339550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sephyranthus/pseuds/Sephyranthus
Summary: (AU (No Pennywise) - The Losers are the graduating class of 1999. Each of them have something to overcome, whether it be past trauma, relationships, drama, etc. No matter what, they are all there for one another.)Richie turned back toward the direction Henry had run off in and raised his head up before screaming, “WE’RE LOSERS!” at the top of his lungs. As he screamed, he raised up his middle finger, flicking off in his general direction.  Eddie shouted along with him, also bringing up his middle finger. The rest of the Losers looked up at them in adoration before joining in from where they stood, screaming “LOSERS!” with pride.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter One

“Everyone just sit down and be quiet because I’m not going to repeat myself.” Gretta smacked her bubble gum loudly and gave the class the most deadpan expression she could muster, which didn’t take much effort. She had her hand on her hip and a clipboard in the other hand. Her excessive blue eye shadow only added to her _I’d rather be anywhere else_ demeanor.

“Please, Ms. Keene. Be respectful.” The teacher sat at her desk. She waved her hand in Gretta’s direction shooing her to continue quickly. It was the beginning of the day on a Friday and everyone had the weekend on their minds. All the teachers were aware of the massive spread of Senioritis as of late and it was clear they had no intention of trying to change that. All major tests had been taken and a majority of the students had already been accepted into any colleges they had the chance of actually attending.

Gretta rolled her eyes and blew a bubble, letting it pop obnoxiously. “With prom being just a few weeks away, the committee has finally decided on a theme.” She let her disapproval seep through her words. “Congratulations, it’s disco.” The class groaned collectively. “Oh, shut the fuck up.”

“_Gretta!_” The teacher looked up from her book so sharply she could have given herself whiplash. “There will be no cursing in my classroom!”

Gretta made no motion to show that she had heard. “Like I said, it’s disco.”

“That’s so lame,” Richie laughed, leaning dangerously far back in his chair. He had been trying to balance a pencil on his nose, and it clattered to the floor when he talked. He heard Bill chuckle beside him and was sure that Stanley was rolling his eyes on the other side of the room.

“Shut your mouth, Tozier,” Gretta spat. Richie raised his hands up in surrender, though his face still held a goofy smile suggesting he was laughing in his head. Stanley covered his face with his hands.

“Is that really the best the committee could come up with?” This time it was one of Gretta’s friends who spoke, and she sounded just as bored as Gretta herself. “ I mean, I’m pretty sure that was the theme last year, too.”

“Yeah, well it’s the same theme they use every year.” Gretta glanced down at her clipboard, pointedly ignoring all further comments. “The deadline for getting your ticket is two weeks before prom. After the dance there will be late night bowling and then a 5am breakfast at the school. You’ll need to pay extra for that.”

“How much will that cost?” someone asked.

“Hell if I know.” Gretta blew another bubble.

“_Gretta. _Wrap this up,” the teacher said sternly.

Gretta sighed audibly. “Just like last year, there is a dress code. Look good or no entry.”

“Good is kind of an arbitrary term,” another said.

She slapped the clipboard to her hips and glared. “Why don’t you ask you mom what looks good.” She rolled her eyes yet again. “I don’t decide this stuff.”

“Aren’t you, like, _on_ the stupid committee?” This comment had come from the back of the class from Victor Criss. A few students laughed with him.

“Aren’t you, like, _not _even gonna graduate?” Gretta shot daggers with her eyes. A majority of the class erupted in laughed at that, and Victor flushed.

The teacher stood up and walked over to Gretta, making more shooing motions with her hands. “Alright, that’s enough. The bell will ring soon.” Gretta stared Victor down a second longer before taking her seat. A low murmur of conversation began and the teacher retook her seat, not bothering to advocate for silence for the last few minutes of home room.

Richie leaned over toward Bill and whispered, “She’s right, you know. None of the Bowers gang is going to graduate.”

“H-H-How d-do you know?”

“Tell you at lunch. Everyone’s gonna want to hear this one!” Richie smiled, showing his teeth. Knowing that the famous bullies of Derry were collectively being kicked down a notch made him feel euphoric, though he was certain a few of the Bowers gang, if not all of them, had already repeated a few grades. Henry himself could have already been in his twenties. Victor was the scrawniest of them all – a kid of all talk and no fight. Everyone knew he only acted tough because he figured he had Henry’s protection.

Richie leaned back in his chair again to get a good look at Stanley who was doodling in his notebook. “Stan the man!” Richie whispered loudly, though at that point it would hardly be considered a whisper. Stanley glanced up at him and mouthed the word _what_. Richie flashed the widest smile at him, having nothing to really say. Stanley smiled in return and went back to his doodling. “I bet he’s drawing another damn bird,” Richie said to Bill.

“I-I-I th-think it’s c-cool tha-at he l-likes birds.” Bill craned his neck to look in Stanley’s direction. Ideally they would have all been sitting next to each other, but Richie was certain the teacher had it out for him. He was notorious for chatting it up whenever Stanley was close enough to hear him, and Stanley was always too polite to bother to shush him.

“He’s gonna turn into a bird at this rate. What do you think he’ll be? A sparrow? Finch?” Richie leaned his head back and tried to balance the pencil on his nose.

“A goo-oose.” Bill and Richie cracked up at that.

The bell rang, followed by the sounds of backpacks being zipped and feet stomping on tile floor. Richie headed for the door, but just before heading down the hallway toward his next class, he turned on his heel to wave to Bill and Stanley. “Later, Losers!”

~*~*~*~*~

The sun shed its warm and inviting light on the school courtyard, giving off the perfect lunch time aesthetic. The Seniors at Derry High were fortunate enough to be allowed to have a collective lunch break instead of having to break up their time together like the other grades. They were even allowed to walk across the street to McDonalds if they so pleased, which was often. The Losers gathered around a circular picnic table which sat in a particularly sunny area of the courtyard.

“I can’t believe it’s actually warm,” Mike sighed in delight. He looked to the sky and shut his eyes, smiling. Bill chuckled in agreement, and Stanley mimicked Mike’s actions.

“If you weren’t here you’d be able to enjoy this all day,” Eddie said. He was scooted to the edge of his seat and he set out his lunch in a methodical manner. Richie slowly reached his hand over to steal a chip but was swatted away quickly. “Fuck off and get your own.”

“When are you gonna make me lunch, huh Eds?” Richie smiled teasingly.

“Don’t hold your breath.” He bumped his shoulder into Richie’s, which didn’t take much effort considering they were sitting so close to each other.

The rest of the gang ignored them. “How’s public school been for you, Mike?” Beverly asked, lighting a cigarette. “Considering this is the only year you’ve had it.” At the age of eighteen the most the school could scold her for was smoking on the property, but even then they couldn’t be bothered to actually do it.

“It’s all stuff I’ve already covered while I was homeschooled.” Mike shrugged. “It’s being with you guys that’s made it great.”

Beverly smiled widely and Bill patted him on the back.

“It will be nice to get out of here, though,” Ben added. He popped open the tab of a coke and sipped it.

“Y-You ha-ave big plans?” Bill kept one hand on Mike’s back and used the other to take a swig from his own coke.

“Kind of.” Ben raised his hand and rocked it back and forth in a so-so motion. “I know I’ll have to leave Derry, at least.”

Everyone nodded silently, unwilling to acknowledge the inevitable. It was something that they had all thought about on their own – a future where they were separated by distance and the busy schedules adulthood demanded.

“Oh yeah,” Richie said, breaking the silence. “I have some amazing news.”

“It better not be about your dick,” Eddie said before taking another bite of his sandwich.

“Why are you thinking about my dick, Kaspbrak?” Richie raised any eyebrow. Eddie nearly choked, causing Richie to laugh. “Anyway, no, for once it’s not about my dick.”

“Finally,” Stanley chimed in, bored.

“Word is none of the Bowers gang is going to graduate.” Richie spun the top off his own drink for dramatic effect.

Beverly’s eyes grew wide. “Really? Is that any different from them being held back though?”

“Wow,” Ben said quietly. “I figured they would have dropped out by now.”

“I’m pretty sure this has more to do with them being assholes and not their grades this time,” Richie said. He managed to snag a chip from Eddie without him noticing, but Eddie’s head jerked toward him once he heard the crunching.

“What the fuck!”

“You want it back?” Richie stuck out his tongue and Eddie almost vomited.

“You’re disgusting and your breath smells like death,” he choked out.

“H-How d-do you know this?” Bill stuck his hand into the chip bag he and Mike were sharing.

“The teachers love to gossip and it’s not hard to listen in.”

“Should we really be talking about this at school?” Eddie said, finishing his sandwich. “If they hear us you know they’ll beat the shit out of us later.”

“Let them try,” Ben said. “That might have worked years ago but now it’s just pathetic.”

“Did you gain muscle after losing all that weight or something, Hanscom?” Richie laughed. “Never heard you talk so big before.”

Ben flushed. “Not really, I’m just sick of their shit.”

“I am, too, honestly,” Mike said. Everyone looked at him curiously. “We’ve let them bully us around long enough, but we outnumber them. I don’t care how scary Bowers thinks he is, he’s still a crazy kid who thinks a knife and a mullet will answer all of his problems.”

“Yeah,” Bill agreed. “E-Enough’s enough.”

Eddie looked at each of their faces. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

“Fuck yeah!” Richie shoved his fist into the air. “Once we’re out of here we’ll be free, and Bowers will have to stick around to relearn algebra all over again.” Eddie slid the rest of his chips over to Richie. “Your offering is much appreciated, dear Eds.”

Eddie ignored him. “We’re going to the drive in tonight, right?”

Richie spoke through a mouth full of chips. “Fuck yeah.” Eddie made gagging sounds at the sight.

“I don’t have the van tonight, guys,” Stanley said. “We’re going to have to take two separate cars if we still want to go.”

“I d-don’t mu-ind drivng,” Bill said, nodding at Stanley. “You’ve du-riven us enough.”

The rest of the group looked at Richie expectantly since he was the only one left with a license, as well as a car. Eddie’s mother nearly passed out every time Eddie suggested he finally learn how to drive, and Beverly was too nervous to even bring up the idea to her father. Mike and Ben were satisfied with a bike – for the time being, at least. “All right, all right,” Richie said after swallowing the rest of Eddie’s left over chips. “I guess I owe you one, Stan. You ride with me.”

“I’ll ride with Bill, if that’s alright.” Mike looked over at Bill and flashed him a smile. Bill flushed and nodded.

“Mind if I join you two, Bill?” Beverly asked innocently.

“S-Sure, Bev.”

Richie glanced between the two of them. “Well then –,“ he cleared his throat, “ – I’ll be taking Eddie and Ben _Handsome_.”

Ben laughed appreciatively. “Knock that off, would you?”

“Just stating facts.”

“What are we seeing, anyway?” Eddie asked as he looked at his watch, preparing himself for the inevitable ‘lunch is over, get the fuck to class’ bell.

Richie clapped his hands together. “American Pie!”

Stanley groaned. “I’m really looking forward to a couple of hours of dick jokes,” he said sarcastically.

“So happy to hear your enthusiasm!” Richie smiled, completely ignoring the tone in Stanley’s voice. Stanley couldn’t help but smile a bit in return. The bell rang obnoxiously, and the Losers reluctantly rose from their table. “Alright, Tozier-gang! Be at my place by 5pm sharp!”

~*~*~*~*~

Richie popped open the trunk of his car and slid in a large cooler next to his stack of blankets just in time for the others to arrive. Ben’s mother had been kind enough to drop the three of them off, considering the drive in wasn’t even located in Derry, and riding a bike all the way there and back would have been foolish. 

“Thanks, mom.” Ben gave her a wave and a genuine smile as she pulled away from the curb.

Richie snorted. “A good relationship with your mom? What’s that like?”

“Maybe if you gave your mom a break once in a while from the snarky comments you would know.” Ben leaned against the side of Richie’s car.

“Touché, Handsome.”

Eddie and Stanley rolled their eyes, and then laughed with each other when they noticed their mirrored reaction. Richie slammed the trunk of the car down. “Are you two done flirting or what?” he said, looking away from them. The two of them continued to giggle as they approached the car. “Up front, Eds.” Richie held open the front passenger door and beckoned him in like an overly dramatic butler.

“Paying me back by having me ride in the back, huh?” Stanley raised an eyebrow in jest.

“Just leaving room for Jesus between you two,” Richie said, closing the door behind Eddie. “Oh wait, is that your thing?”

Stanley shook his head as he opened the backseat door. “We aren’t even going to get into it.”

Richie shrugged his shoulders and hopped in the driver’s seat. “Alright, Losers. Buckle the fuck up, because we don’t play around here in the Tozier-mobile.”

“What the fuck is up with you today?” Eddie animatedly shook his hands in front of him. “Tozier-this and Tozier-that. It’s just a fucking _thing_.”

“It’s _my_ thing. There’s a difference.” Richie started the car, which was a loud process on its own. The car had definitely seen better days, and seemed to always want to remind Richie of how old it was. It was free for him – passed down from his parents – and that was good enough in his mind.

“The fucking Tozier-_gang?_ We aren’t yours, dude.” Eddie made a fuss of buckling his seat belt as he talked. He also took the time to angle his seat just the right way, nearly crushing Stanley’s knees in the process. Richie laughed at Eddie’s words but flushed completely red regardless, at a loss for words. Those particular words – coming from Eddie, specifically – gave Richie a painful feeling in his gut.

“Are you two done? We don’t want to be late for the movie,” Ben said, leaning forward between the two front seats to talk to both of them.

Richie craned his head back as he put the car in reverse, coming face to face with Ben. “Handsome, you’re making me blush.”

Eddie turned sharply. “Pay attention to the road.”

“Yeah, yeah, calm yourself.” Richie maneuvered the car out of the drive (not without some loud grunts and squeaks from the car) and then they hit the road.

“I saw a cooler in the back,” Ben said. “What did you bring?”

“A fuck ton of Swip. Just for you.”

Ben brought his hand to his chest, mimicking Richie’s normally exaggerated expressions. “Thanks, Rich,” he said sincerely.

“Hey, when was the last time we went to the drive in?” Stanley asked.

“Must have been last year, around when Junior year ended,” said Eddie. “We saw ‘Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.’ Who the fuck even decided on that one?”

“I think it was Beverly,” Ben answered quickly. “She thought it would be funny.”

“It made me want to vomit.” Eddie shivered at the thought of it.

“Eddie, most things make you want to vomit,” Stanley said, not unkindly.

Eddie shrugged off the comment. “Richie, you picked this one, didn’t you?”

“What’s with the accusatory tone? This will be a delightful family film.”

Eddie looked over at him, his eyes wide. “I don’t believe you.”

Stanley laughed from the back seat. “You’re learning.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Eddie craned his neck over the side of his seat to look at Stanley who had been consumed by a fit of giggles. Ben started laughing hard as well once he had gotten a good look at Eddie’s serious expression. “What the fuck are _you_ laughing at?”

“Calm down, Eddie,” Richie said, smirking from the front seat. “I have just the thing for you.” He reached over to Eddie’s side of the car and opened up the glove box, revealing a single cassette tape. Without letting Eddie see it, he quickly inserted it and let it play. Eddie stared at the stereo cautiously. Once the music began, he groaned.

“You have a cassette of _this?_” Eddie said, flinging up his arms. Richie responded by turning the dial so the music would drown out Eddie’s disapproval.

“I’m surprised you actually like this,” Ben said.

Richie rolled down the windows as he began to sing. “_Theeeeeere used to be a graying tower alone on the sea. YOOOUUUUUU became –“ _

Eddie clapped his hands over his ears in embarrassment. “Dude! Does the whole town have to hear you?”

Stanley rolled down the back window. “To be fair, I don’t think we’re technically in town anymore.”

“Why are you encouraging him?!” Eddie turned around in his seat again and was surprised to see Ben mouthing the words. “Whatever happened to New Kids On the Block, man?!”

Ben raised his hands defensively. “Nothing wrong with a change of pace now and again.”  
  


“_BAYYBEEHHHH, I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the gray_ – “

Eddie started screaming. Stanley slapped his own hands over his ears. “You’re making it worse!”

Richie, though hysterical laughter, turned the music down and rolled up the window. “Fuck, Eds, I can’t focus on the road with all that screaming.” Eddie turned to glare at him.

“I’m going to miss you guys,” Ben said through fits of laughter.

“Miss?” Stanley rolled up his own window.

“Yeah.” Ben’s laughter settled down before he continued. “After graduation. When we go to college.”

Silence fell over them – save for the toned down volume of _Kiss from a Rose_ playing from the cassette. Richie decided to break it. “Fuck that.”

“Are you not going?” Ben asked.

“All I can think about is getting the fuck out of high school. I’ll figure the rest out later,” Richie said, surprisingly honest.

“I, uh… have no idea what to do, really.” Eddie held his hand against his chest and looked out the window, uncertain of how much information he should divulge.

“Uh,” Stanley began, and then he stopped. Ben glanced over at him and noticed how Stanley’s face became red and his jaw clenched.

“Stanley?” he said, eyeing him.

Stanley considered for a moment before deciding to continue. “I’ve been rejected from the college of my choice.”

Ben reached out to him and rested his hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Stanley.”

“Fuck, dude,” Eddie sighed. “To be honest I don’t really know what to say.”

“Yeah,” Stanley sighed. “Can we just have a fun night tonight?” He placed his hand over Ben’s and rested it there.

“This movie will make you forget your entire week,” Richie said reassuringly.

“Yeah, that definitely makes me feel better.” Stanley rolled his eyes but smiled widely, appreciative of Richie’s attempts. He looked out the window and felt himself become lost in the trees. “Everyone else will meet us when we get there, right?”

“Yes, sir,” Richie said. “Bill and I made sure to actually leave at the same time.”

“Sorry I couldn’t drive everyone,” Stanley sighed.

“It’s no worries, dude,” Eddie said, craning his neck to get a look at Stanley. “You drive all of us all the time.”

“No, it’s – nevermind.” Stanley shook his head and ran a hand through his hair.

Ben looked at him intensely for a moment. His eyes traced over Stanley’s face in recognition. “No, I get it, Stan.” Ben rested his hand over Stanley’s. “I do.”

“Okay, what the fuck do I not know about, apparently?” Richie said, only half joking.

“I’ll tell you later,” Stanley said, flashing Ben a genuine smile. “Let’s just focus on having fun tonight.”

“Speaking of fun,” Eddie said, glaring at the stereo of the car. “Does this cassette only have one fucking song on it or what?”

Richie burst out laughing. “What, you have a problem with Seal? There’s a reverse side, too, if you prefer that.”

“No, no, I’m fine.” Eddie turned the knob down even lower, making the music barely audible.

“I might have some Backstreet Boys – just for you Eds.” Richie made a show of reaching into his glove box only to be shooed away by Eddie.

“I told you that in confidence, fuck head!”

Ben and Stanley were overcome with giggles in the backseat, drowning out the sounds of Eddie and Richie’s banter over musical tastes. Richie continued to tease Eddie about his secret love for the Backstreet Boys until they finally arrived at the drive in. As they pulled in, Stanley piped up that he recognized Bill’s car in front of them. “I’m pretty sure I can see Beverly waving to us from the back seat!” He and Ben waved excitedly, hoping that they could be seen.

“Alright, fellas, hand over your money.” Richie rolled down the window and slid the cash over to the employee checking the cars in. Once they had received their tickets, Richie followed Bill’s car closely until they arrived at adjacent parking spots in the grass. “Right near the screen – perfect.” Richie grinned ear to ear, overly excited at the thought of forcing his friends to watch such a raunchy film up close. They exited the car and Richie popped the trunk open, revealing the cooler and pile of blankets he had brought.

“Perfect timing!” Mike said as he came over to Richie to help. “We brought some snacks, too.”

“I only brought a bunch of Swip to drink.” Richie slid the cooler out and grunted as he struggled with the weight. “Just for Mr. Handsome.”

Eddie glanced over at them and furrowed his brows. He pointedly moved over to Bill’s car to greet them. “Please tell me you have something besides Swip in there.”

“J-Just snacks,” Bill said, smiling softly.

“Hey, I’ll help with that,” Stanley said, coming over to join them. “How was the drive for you guys?”

“Relaxing.” Mike tucked a few blankets under his arms. “Not the same without you, of course.”

Stanley grabbed the rest of the blankets and followed Mike to the front of the cars. “I’ll have the van again next week. Let’s do something again then.” They spread the blankets out across the grass, leaving plenty of room for everyone to have a seat. Richie stomped over with the heavy cooler and nearly dropped it in front of them.

“By _help with that_ I thought you meant with the _fucking cooler_, Stan.” Richie touched his arms gingerly. “That was heavy.” Stanley and Mike looked at each other and laughed.

Eddie popped the top off of the cooler to find that it really was only full of Swip – Ben’s carbonated drink of choice. “Why the fuck is there only Swip in here?”

“Told you,” Richie said, grabbing one for himself. “It’s for Handsome.” He handed one over to Ben who happily popped the top open.

Eddie huffed and crossed his arms. “You didn’t bother to see what anyone else might like?”

“Well Eds, how about you tell me what you want next time, huh?”

Eddie flushed and turned away. “That’s not – oh nevermind. Hand me one.” Richie smirked and handed one over, noticing how red Eddie’s face had become. Eddie turned away to avoid eye contact as he popped the lid open and sipped it.

“Not so bad, is it?” Ben asked, a huge grin on his face. He playfully elbowed Eddie in the side.

“Okay, okay, let’s just sit,” Richie said, making a show of finding his spot on the blankets. The others joined him, sitting around in a half circle on the blanket to face the big screen in front of them. Eddie sat to Richie’s left with Beverly to his right, followed by Ben, Bill, Stan, and Mike.

“Oh, we b-b-bro-ought po-opcorn,” Bill said, passing some buckets down the line of pre-popped popcorn. The others rejoiced and began eagerly snacking down.

The movie received mixed reactions, just as Richie had expected. It had just the right amount of teasing and vulgarity that he had wanted out of it – not just to laugh at, but to see Eddie react to. The group collectively groaned when presented with a dick in a sock, all except for Beverly, whose laughter became infectious. Stanley had whispered “_no_” in disbelief at all the right moments, whereas Eddie nearly vomited at the thought of someone ejaculating in a cup of beer. Richie noticed himself inching closer to Eddie during the movie, their hands a hair apart. Ben had taken to looking at Beverly with adoration whenever she laughed. As for Bill, Stanley, and Mike, the three of them joined together in embarrassed giggles whenever the moment struck.

“Wow,” Beverly said, once the credits began to roll. “That was surprisingly… nice in the end.”

“Well it was no _Fear and Loathing_, that’s for sure,” Richie said before chugging another Swip. “What did you think, Eds?”

Eddie shook his head. “It was gross. And, admittedly, kind of funny.”

“It was hilarious!” Mike laughed.

“Makes you crave apple pie, doesn’t it?” Richie smiled widely in amusement at Eddie’s horrified expression.

“That’s seriously disgusting.”

The rest of the Losers erupted in laughter as Richie mimicked intercourse with his fingers, causing Eddie to nearly vomit.

“What the fuck are these losers doing here?”

The laughter ended abruptly at the sound of Henry Bowers stomping over. He crushed the can that was in his hand and threw it over their heads, narrowly hitting Ben. His goons Vincent and Belch high fived each other as they guffawed a bit too loudly at the action. Without missing a beat, Ben stood up to face them. “I could ask the same thing about you,” he said, eyes fierce. Vincent and Belch immediately stilled and watched Henry for his next move. Henry scowled and closed in on Ben, leaving less than a foot between them.

“What the fuck did you just say to me? You think just because you lost some weight that you’re suddenly less of a fucking loser? You’ll always be a fat ass.”

Richie stood up then and threw his empty can at Henry, hitting him in the side. “What’s it like to always be a dumb ass, huh, mullet head?”

“Fuck you, faggot!” Henry screamed as he charged at Richie, punching him in the face. Richie fell backwards and lost his balance, falling onto his back. Eddie shot up and shoved his fist into Henry’s gut with as much force as he could muster. Henry gasped loudly, and then groaned in pain as he felt Ben’s fist connect with his face.

“We’re tired of your shit!” Ben yelled as he brought his fist down again, connecting with Henry’s nose. He felt a crack, and then blood began to spill down Henry’s face. Henry snarled with rage and swung his fists around madly, hoping to connect with one of the Losers. He was outnumbered, though, with both Eddie and Ben fearless against him. Vincent and Belch had backed up in fear, nearly running from the scene. Richie pulled himself up and managed to swing a kick into Henry’s back.

“Get the fuck out of here!” Richie’s kick pushed Henry away from the group, and he stumbled forward violently, nearly crashing into the ground. They all watched as he ran after his goons, not looking back.

Eddie and Ben stood still, breathing heavily as they watched Bowers run from them. Richie went over to his car and climbed on top of the hood, pulling himself up to stand on the top of the car. “WE’RE FUCKING LOSERS!” he screamed, using his hands to help direct his shouting toward Henry, who at that point was quite a distance away from them.

Beverly looked between all of them and began to giggle. “Oh my god.”

“Did you guys just… beat up Henry Bowers?” Stanley said cautiously, standing up to join Eddie and Ben.

“YOU’RE DAMN RIGHT! WE BEAT YOU THE FUCK UP YOU FUCKING MULLET HEADED BITCH!”

“Richie,” Bill said, “I think he he-eard you.”

Richie grinned ear to ear, letting them see the blood in his mouth that occurred when he was punched in the face. He reached down toward Eddie and pulled him up to join him on top of the car.

“You look fucking awful,” Eddie said, holding on to Richie’s arm to steady himself.

Richie turned back toward the direction Henry had run off in and raised his head up before screaming, “WE’RE LOSERS!” at the top of his lungs. As he screamed, he raised up his middle finger, flicking off in his general direction. Eddie shouted along with him, also bringing up his middle finger. The rest of the Losers looked up at them in adoration before joining in from where they stood, screaming “LOSERS!” with pride.

“HEY!” A pissed off voice came from behind. “You kids need to get the hell out of here!” An older man wearing a ridiculously large name badge came storming toward them, shaking his head. “I’ve had just enough complaints about you!”

“Don’t you worry, sir! We’ll be out in a jiffy.” Richie beamed at him. The man – who they guessed was the manager – watched them with stern eyes as Richie and Eddie carefully slid off the car.

“See you guys at Waffle House?” Stanley asked, nodding toward Bill and Mike.

“Absolutely!” Mike said, grinning.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter has mentions of abuse.

**Chapter Two: **

Richie was grinning ear to ear, proud of the blood in his mouth. A few years ago, he never would have imagined himself standing up to Henry Bowers of all people. Everyone knew he wasn’t one to be messed with considering his psychopathic tendencies. After being held back in school for so many years and having to complete summer school after summer school, the people of Derry began to view Henry Bowers as an idiot – just a thug who wanted to be feared. If you were caught by him on your own, he definitely had the strength and the numbers to terrify you and leave a few cuts and bruises (if that’s all he would do). The Losers were sick of it, Ben most of all.

“You were crazy, Ben,” Eddie said, laughing from the passenger seat as Richie sped them down the road toward Waffle House.

“Hey, you came in swinging just as hard,” Ben replied modestly, though he was blushing.

“You were both unbelievable,” Stanley said, nodding.

“Hey now,” Richie interjected, “who threw the fucking can at him?”

“And then who lost his mind when you were punched?” Ben beamed at Eddie who blushed furiously in response.

“Yeah, well….” Eddie looked down at this lap and wiped his sweaty hands against his jeans.

“I knew you had it in you, Eds.” Richie smiled widely again, showing off the blood that had begun to dry against his teeth.

“That’s so fucking disgusting.” Eddie made a show of gagging at the sight of the blood, but he couldn’t help but smile at Richie’s words. In truth, he hadn’t felt in control of his actions when he punched Henry Bowers. After seeing him attack Richie, instincts kicked in – it didn’t make him feel necessarily brave, just impulsive.

“It’s really empowering,” Ben mused. “The asshole who carved an ‘H’ into my skin is the same asshole who just ran away from us, cowering in fear.”

“Does that still make us losers?” Eddie wondered.

“Fuck yeah it does!” Richie punched the roof of his car.

“We’ll always be losers,” Stanley said fondly.

Richie pulled into the Waffle House parking lot and pulled his car up next to Bill’s. Mike, Bill, and Beverly were standing outside of it while Beverly held a cigarette in her mouth. “Got one for me, Bev?” Richie asked as they all got out of the car. She smiled and handed one over.

“We’ll get a table,” Mike said, waving.

Once the rest of them had taken their seats inside and Richie had taken his first drag on his cigarette, the mood shifted between him and Beverly. “Are you planning on going to prom?” she asked.

Richie raised his eyebrows. “I honestly haven’t given it any thought.”

“I figured we could all go. Considering this might be our last few months all together.”

“Way to darken the mood, Bev.” Richie took a long drag on his cigarette, more willing to shrug off her comment than acknowledge the reality.

“I’m not really sure how to say this, Richie.” She glanced through the window at the rest of the group, making sure they weren’t staring. “But we should really start acting now before we regret it later.”

“Stop being so ominous, I really don’t see what you’re getting at.”

Beverly sighed. “I think Bill wants to ask me to prom.”

Richie took too big of a drag off his cigarette at that and immediately began coughing. Beverly eyed him as he coughed, unsure whether it was a reaction to what she said or not. Once he finally regained his composure, he laughed a little. “_Bill_? Really?” He glanced behind him to peer at the group through the window. Bill was cozy in-between Mike and Stanley in the booth, and he had a certain glow about him that Richie found familiar. It was crystal clear to him (at least) that Bill had something other than Beverly in mind.

“What’s so unbelievable about that?”

“Well first off, why do you think Bill wants to ask you to prom?”

She withdrew her hand from her jacket pocket, bringing with it a folded up note. “I found this in my locker today. It’s a poem.”

“Bill may be a writer but he’s a shitty poet. He actually signed it?” Richie moved closer to her, trying to get a good look at the note, but she shoved it back into her pocket.

“Well, no. It’s not signed.”

“Bev.” He shook his head and brought his cigarette back up to his lips. “I get the feeling you just _want _it to be Bill.”

“If it’s not Bill then who is it?” She furrowed her brow.

Richie turned to look back through the window at the group. They were already laughing over cups of coffee and soda. Mike, Bill, and Stanley were giggling while blowing their straw wrappers across the table at Ben and Eddie, who happily repeated the action right back. Eddie glanced out the window at the two of them, and Richie felt his chest clench. He shifted his weight to his other foot and quickly looked away from the window toward the parking lot.

“Richie?”

“I don’t know, but it’s not Bill.”

“Well,” she said before taking a final drag off her cigarette, depleting it. “I meant what I said. Act now before you regret it later.”

“I have no idea what you’re getting at.”

She put her hand on his shoulder. “I saw that look in your eyes just now.”

Richie finished his cigarette and stomped it out on the sidewalk, looking away from her. “So you can see the look in my eyes but can’t tell who wrote you that poem.”

“Well I know it’s not Eddie.” She smiled. Richie felt himself blush. He knew exactly how he felt, but it wasn’t something he ever truly admitted. The thought terrified him and only made him feel more vulnerable.

“Yeah,” he said uneasily. “Let’s get inside.”

~*~*~*~*~

The late night meal at Waffle House was just about what they had expected – buttery, decent food with an impatient staff. Stanley was surprised they didn’t all get kicked out with as loud as their table was. None of them truly wanted the evening to end, but in truth it was only Friday and they had the entire rest of the weekend ahead of them with no true plans. Richie liked it that way. The freedom of finally having a car and be able to go wherever you want to made him feel like he had wings and had just ripped the bars off his cage. _I’m one of Stan’s birds_, he thought. He gripped the steering wheel as a sudden wave of unease washed over him. The conversation had died down once they got to their cars, all of them wanting to digest their piles of waffles and hash browns before attempting to talk too much.

Beverly’s words got to him, although he would rather make fun of the situations than really admit how he felt about them. He knew their time together was slowly coming to an end. Although he himself had no desire to go to college, he knew he wanted to get as far away from Derry that he could, which would inevitably result in saying good-bye to the Losers. The thought of never seeing any of them tugged at his heart.

Of never seeing Eddie again.

He glanced over at Eddie, who seemed at ease, which might have been due to Richie’s lack of music blasting in the car. The same feeling he got when he looked at him through the window clawed at him, leaving him nearly breathless. Beverly’s all-knowing look worried him and excited him all the same. She was right – confessions were either going to happen soon or never, with the way the future was playing out. Although she didn’t directly say anything, she clearly knew there was something in the way Richie looked at Eddie. _But she can’t see the way Bill looks at Mike and Stanley_, he thought to himself, rolling his eyes. He figured he was the only one who saw what was going on between the three of him. He wasn’t so sure what had transpired between them, but the way they looked at each other and found excuses to touch one another was becoming painfully obvious.

Another thought flashed obnoxiously in his mind: prom. It was entirely likely that the whole gang would just go to prom together as a unit. No dates, no hassle. With the way Beverly spoke about Bill earlier, though, it left Richie wondering about who was going to make their move. When he had finally started driving them back into town, the answer of the mystery poet had hit him – Ben. It’s not like the answer took much thought. In fact, it was the obvious conclusion out of the group. Ben had already begun to make his move, and based on what Richie allowed himself to observe, Mike, Bill, and Stanley had made strides with each other during the course of the evening.

He felt himself begin to sweat as he wondered if Eddie would even want to go to prom, let alone with him instead of specifically with the group. Did_ he_ even want to go to prom? It honestly sounded like a lame evening he could spend doing anything else. If he didn’t go, he knew he would regret it, though. Knowing Beverly was thinking of going was a good enough reason to attend.

Whenever Richie felt overwhelmed with emotions he just shrugged them off and refused to acknowledge them. For now, he was going to do just that.

“I can drop you guys off if you want,” Richie said, his voice cracking, as they entered the limits of Derry.

“That would be a huge help,” Ben said, his voice groggy from nearly falling asleep in the back seat.

“I guess it’s Eddie Spaghetti first, considering you’re furthest away from me.”

Eddie groaned from his seat, lifting his head from the window. “Whatever. I just need to get some shut eye.”

“Awe, did you eat too many waffles?” Richie teased.

“It’s nearly 2am, lay off,” Eddie said, leaning his head back against the head rest, too tired to continue any banter.

Richie pulled off onto one of the many side streets, and slowed his car to a noisy stop in front of Eddie’s house. His breaks squealed loudly, causing Eddie’s eyes to widen in fear. “My mom is going to kill me. I don’t think I told her I was going to be out this late.”

“If that’s the case then my wheels definitely didn’t wake her up.” Richie put the car in park, ignoring the fact that his car continued to rattle even when idle. “She’s probably waiting by the door under a lamp, being all ominous and shit.”

“Great. Fuck.” Eddie unbuckled and opened the car door. “Well… See you guys later I guess.”

“Good night, Eddie,” Ben and Stanley said in their own respective tired voices.

“Night, Eds,” came Richie’s soft voice. He decided it was probably best to not stick around to hear Sonia Kaspbrak’s possible shrieks of worry. He put the car back in drive and headed down the road toward Stanley’s house. “Is your dad about to rip you a new one, too, Stan the Man?”

Stanley shrugged. “I don’t think he’s even noticed.”

“That can’t be right.” Richie furrowed his brow, trying to remember the stern behavior of Mr. Uris.

“It’s late,” Stanley sighed. “As far as I know I’m not doing anything tomorrow, so give me a call, Rich.”

“Sure thing.”

“See ya, Stan,” Ben waved as Stanley exited the car.

“Guess it’s just you and me, Handsome,” Richie smiled coyly.

“Mind if I sit up front for the ride back?” Ben asked, already opening up the door. Richie beckoned toward the seat and waited for Ben to get back into the car on the passenger side before responding.

“For a 5 minute drive? Sure thing.”

Ben silently buckled his seat belt and nodded at Richie. With a shrug of his shoulders, Richie pulled away from Stanley’s house and headed down the road. “Actually, there is something I wanted to talk to you about.” Richie raised his eyebrow and glanced over at Ben, allowing him to continue. “I was wondering what you and Beverly were talking about earlier. You know, outside Waffle House.”

“Oh. That.” Richie took a deep breath, wondering how much to say. Although he was known as the Trashmouth, he wasn’t one for gossip. Accidentally letting something slip or saying the wrong thing would cause trouble not only for the people it was about, but for him as well, just for being the middle man. “Why are you so curious all of a sudden?”

“Well….” Ben twiddled his thumbs. “You have to promise not to laugh.”

“Me? Laugh? Never.”

“Okay, okay.” Ben held his hand up. “I guess that was a stupid thing to say. You can stop smiling, now.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes as he considered what he really wanted to say. “I wrote her a poem today and I was just wondering what she thought about it.”

“I knew it was you!” Richie beamed.

“So that is what you talked about?” Ben’s eyes bored into Richie, searching for answers.

“So perceptive of you, Handsome. Yes, she was trying to figure out who wrote it.”

Ben’s brows knitted. “Did she think it was you?”

“Whoa there, what’s with the tone? Why couldn’t it be me?” Richie pulled up to a stop sign, giving him enough time to react dramatically.

“You like Eddie, don’t you?”

Richie felt his stomach sink, and he took a second too long to respond. “What makes you think that?”

“If I’m being honest, Richie, it’s kind of obvious.” Ben smiled endearingly.

Richie was uncharacteristically quiet, and Ben didn’t push it. Sure, Beverly had hinted at knowing about his crush (although as far as he was concerned, it was more than just some dumb high school crush). He hadn’t come out and said so, though – to anyone. Not even to Stanley or Bill, whom he had known for much longer than the others. It was blatantly obvious to him that there was something going on between the two of them and Mike as well, so was it truly so obvious to everyone else that he was so desperately in love with Eddie?

The car came to a slow stop in front of Ben’s house, but the two of them remained seated with the car running. Richie’s voice was cautiously quiet, and he made direct eye contact with Ben as he spoke. “I don’t know how to tell him.”

“I didn’t know how to tell her, either. So I wrote it down instead.” Ben reached out and warmly placed his hand on Richie’s shoulder.

The two smiled at each other softly. “She loved the poem.”

Ben squeezed Richie’s shoulder. “I’m glad.” He pulled back from Richie and glanced out the window at his house. Only the porch lights were on, indicating that his mother was asleep. “Do you think we should go to prom?”

“That came out of nowhere. Beverly was wondering the same thing.”

“Good,” Ben nodded. “Then I’m going to ask her.”

“Holy shit, Handsome, when the hell did you get so brave?”

“Since I met you guys.” Ben’s comment was so genuine that Richie faked gagging sounds, which only made Ben laugh. “Yeah, yeah. You should ask Eddie, too.”

The gagging sounds immediately stopped as a lump formed in Richie’s throat. “Yeah,” he choked out. “I don’t know.”

Ben opened up the passenger door and slid out of the car. Before shutting it, though, he turned around and leaned in to look at Richie. “You really should. And one more thing – don’t tell Bev it was me.”

Richie nodded. “Night, Ben.” He watched as Ben walked up to his house and tried his best to enter with as little noise as possible. A deep fondness blossomed in Richie’s chest that turned into an ache when he remembered Ben’s words from earlier: _I’m going to miss you guys._ “I’m going to miss you, too, Ben,” Richie whispered to himself before he looked forward and started the car down the road toward his house.

The road ahead was dim, lit only by a few street lamps lining the way. Richie had expected to find himself exhausted as he approached his home, but he was far from it. In his mind, he had always been discreet about his feelings for Eddie. Learning that he probably looked as stupidly in love as he felt was unsettling when it came to Beverly and Ben, but the thought of Eddie recognizing it made him want to vomit. If Eddie had truly noticed, he hadn’t let on that he did – at least not as far as Richie was concerned. He hadn’t seen any signs of reciprocation. He probably wouldn’t have even seen them as anything outside of the norm even if they _were_ signs. Richie shook his head, wanting to hit his steering wheel out of frustration and embarrassment, but something caught his eye that made him pause.

As he was approaching his house, he noticed someone walking quickly toward it. In the darkness, he couldn’t quite make out who it was, but he knew for a fact it wasn’t either of his parents. The person had two bags slung over their shoulder, and they didn’t seem to be wearing any shoes. Richie slowed his car to a crawl as he turned into the drive way. The person turned to look at him, startled. In his headlights he could see that it was Beverly. “What the fuck?” he whispered to himself as he turned off the car. When he stepped out he could see that Beverly had been crying. “What the hell is going on?”

She sniffled. “I –,“ her voice stammered out uneasily. She gripped her bags and shuffled her bare feet against the pavement. He glanced down, noticing that her feet were bleeding.

“Hang on, let’s get you inside first.” She nodded, following him through the front door. “Go ahead and sit down in my room. Do you want water or something?”

“Do your parents keep any beer here?” She dropped her bags to the floor and sat on the edge of his bed.

“Yeah, just give me a second.” He closed the door behind him as he left the bedroom and headed for the kitchen. He knew exactly where the beer was, and his parents knew that he knew where it was. In their minds, as long as their fucked up son didn’t actually drive after drinking, who the hell cares. Remembering how Beverly had just looked, he decided to go with the entire 6 pack sitting in the fridge, as well as a damp wash cloth for her bloody feet. When he got back to his room, he saw that Beverly had an unlit cigarette between her lips, and she was lying back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He set the 6 pack on the floor and handed her the wash cloth. “Here. Your feet.”

Perplexed, she sat up and looked down, probably for the first time since she had arrived. “Oh,” was all she said. She took the wash cloth and tenderly dabbed at the scraps covering her feet.

“Okay, what the fuck is going on?” Richie took one of the bottles out of the pack and popped it open before handing it to her. “And you can smoke in here. My parents already know I do.” She reached for it with her free hand, and that’s when Richie saw the dark, red mark that seemed to snake across her arm. His eyes widened. “Bev, what the fuck happened?”

She took the beer from him quickly and recoiled into herself. Without looking at him, she took the cigarette away from her mouth to take a big gulp from the bottle. She then placed the bottle between her legs to hold it up while she popped open a lighter and lit her cigarette. A moment passed between them while she continuously inhaled and exhaled smoke and he looked at her with incredulous concern. When she felt she was calm enough to speak, she turned to look at him, eyes dry of tears. 

“My dad was mad at me for getting home so late.” She lifted her arm, showing him the angry red mark. “I decided I had enough, so I left.”

“Wait a minute,” Richie said, shaking his head. “Your dad did that to you?”

“It really shouldn’t be a surprise. It’s not the first time.”

“What the fuck, Bev! You never told us that!”

“It’s embarrassing.” She took another drink from her beer. “And to be honest, I figured one of you might have noticed the bruises at some point.”

Richie grabbed a beer for himself and moved to sit next to her on the bed. “Okay.” He chewed on the thought, hating the taste. “So why was this time the last time? And where the fuck are your shoes?”

“I didn’t even realize I had forgotten to grab shoes,” she said honestly, staring at her feet, the wash cloth lying abandoned next to them. “And I guess it’s because I’m eighteen now so he can’t do anything about it.” 

“And I’m the first person you came to after leaving?”

She offered her cigarette to him and watched as he took a big drag off it. “I was hoping to stay here for a while.” He pulled the cigarette away, coughing harshly.

“You have to stop doing that to me,” he choked out, pounding his chest with his fist. “I mean, I don’t see a problem with you being here. But why _here_? With _me_?”

“Honestly, I think you’re the only one with parents who wouldn’t care.”

“And here I thought you only liked me for my looks.” He rolled his eyes, not unkindly. “Yeah my folks wouldn’t give a shit. And they like you, so you’ll probably become the favorite in the house.”

Beverly smiled for the first time since she had arrived and it put Richie at ease. He couldn’t recall ever seeing her in such a disheveled state, and it really had him shaken up. After taking another swig of his drink, he sighed. “We don’t have an extra room. You can sleep in my bed.”

“I’m happy with the floor, Richie.”

“I’m not going to have you sleep on my disgusting floor. _I’ll_ sleep on the floor.”

She glanced at the clock on his night stand and noticed it was nearly 3am. “Are you tired?”

Richie took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “No,” he said, frustrated. The entire evening had turned into back to back punches against his chest and emotional state of mind to the point where he was surprised he wasn’t tired.

“Grab the beer. Let’s go outside.” She placed the nearly finished cigarette between her lips and stood up.

“Uh, okay, but you’re not going out there barefoot.” Richie gestured at her feet that she had not done a good job of cleaning.

“Okay, then give me your shoes.” She pointed at his feet, knowing full well they would be too big on her. He looked down at his own feet, realizing how ridiculous she would look.

“Alright, socks only it is.” He rummaged through a drawer and then tossed her a pair of generic white socks that were balled up together, and then took off his shoes to match her. “You better tell me where we’re going like this.”

“Just to your back yard. Come on.” She reached for his hand. He took it, allowing her to pull him out of his bedroom and out the backdoor. She brought them to a patch of grass not far from the door and sat down. “Hand me another beer.” He complied, popping open the top once again before handing it over to her while also grabbing himself another one.

“This is stupid,” he said.

“Yeah. Definitely stupid.” She stretched her legs out in front of her to examine her white socked feet. They sat in silence, with her sipping her beer, her eyes un-focusing in front of her, and him, watching her and wondering about all the bruises he wish he had noticed before.

“Bev,” he whispered, not wanting to disturb her. She turned to look at him. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice before.”

“It’s not your fault, Richie.” She brought her beer toward his and clinked the two bottles together. “And it’s not my fault, either.”

“No. It’s not.” They both took a drink.

“You’re a great friend.” She gave him a small but sincere smile.

Richie recalled the feeling of gratitude and fondness he had felt for Ben as he watched him walk away from the car, and how that feeling had caused him pain. It was a pain well worth felt. As Beverly looked at him then, he felt the same sort of sensation in his chest. He knew he would do anything for her, just as he would do anything for the rest of the Losers. It was the sort of connection and willingness he had never felt for anyone else before in his life. He became breathless.

“Bev, I need to be honest with you.” He felt a lump rise in his chest and he was terrified he wouldn’t be able to speak. She turned to face him completely, his eyebrows knitted in worry as his breathing began to pick up. “I, uh….” he tried. Deciding it would be better to loosen up, he lifted his beer and drank the rest of it. When he was done, he tossed the bottle into the grass. “I don’t know what to do.”

“About what?” she asked quietly.

“I’m in love with Eddie.”

Their eyes locked. Richie’s mouth hang open slightly as he struggled to breathe.

“Richie, honey, I know.”

“You – you what?”

She reached out and placed her hand on his knee. “I just know. I see the way you look at him. The way you talk to him.”

Richie bit his lip and looked away, blushing. He felt embarrassment wash over him, as well as gratitude. Not only had it been obvious he liked Eddie, but it had been clear as day that he was stupidly and unconditionally in love with him. To make matters worse, he felt himself tear up. His lip quivered, betraying him. _I can’t do this_, he thought. _Not in front of someone else. Not even Beverly._ He grabbed another beer and quickly popped it open before downing at least half of it. Beverly watched him, her eyes warm. Once he felt he could finally say something without breaking down crying, he looked at her and smiled. “So you could tell I’m in love with him but you can’t tell who’s in love with you?”

She raised her eyebrows. “So you know who wrote the poem?”

He brought a finger to her lips in a shushing gesture. “I’m not telling.” She shoved him, laughing.

“Whatever. Are you going to tell Eddie?”

Richie looked horrified. “And have him vomit in my face?”

Beverly rolled her eyes dramatically. “He is not going to vomit. Come on.”

“Yeah, actually, I might be the one to vomit instead.”

“How about you just ask him to prom? You don’t have to go the whole nine yards at once,” she suggested.

“What is the deal with prom anyway?” Richie asked, the desire to break down disappearing. “I doubt Eddie even likes dancing.”

“Alright, hear me out.” She positioned herself directly in front of Richie. “You know that movie we saw earlier? American Pie?”

“Holy fuck, that was today?”

“Technically it was yesterday. Anyway –” she took a sip of her beer, “ – they decided as a group to all get laid by prom.”

“There is no way in _hell_ –“

“Hang on,” she said, holding up her finger. “I’m not telling you two to fuck by prom. I’m telling you to at least confess to him by prom.”

Richie shook his head. “That’s not a pact. That’s you telling me to throw myself into a pit of fire.”

“Meanwhile, I’ll be figuring out who my secret admirer is, and I’ll have a beautiful kiss with him at prom.”

“Bev,” he said, holding up his hand. “Those are two completely different things. Confessing your love to someone who could emotionally destroy you is not the same as getting to kiss the person who loves you.”

“It is if you get to kiss him,” she smiled.

“You’re crazy.”

She held up her beer, offering it to him to clink with his own. “We only have a few weeks. Better start writing your monologue.”

“Oh fuck off,” he said, and he clinked his beer against hers. They downed the rest of what they had respectively and then tossed their bottles into the grass. “I can’t believe you made me agree to a pact based on American Pie.”

“Well I mean what I said earlier. The closer we get to graduation, the less time we have with each other.” She took out another cigarette and offered him one as well. After lighting them, they both laid down in the grass to look up into the night sky. With Derry being such a small town, they were able to see plenty of stars.

“Does it really have to be that way?” he wondered quietly.

“It just is that way.”


End file.
